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Jisung is in Jeongin’s lap.

Jisung is in Jeongin’s lap, and the room is slightly off balance, and he’s sucking on Jeongin’s neck like his life depends on it. Jeongin lets him. He’s been frozen to the couch for the better part of the last hour. The tequila shots he'd taken earlier had made everything soft and fuzzy, and contributed to him losing at King’s Cup not once but twice. He had tried to play a third time but Seungmin had dragged him away, his grip tight on Jeongin’s arm.

He’d shaken Seungmin off, or maybe Seungmin had lost him purposefully. And Jeongin had found himself crowding into a too small bathroom with a bunch of people he didn’t know and didn’t recognize and let a guy in a black jacket hold a bong up to his lips, instruct him to hold it like Jeongin hadn’t been smoking on and off since he was sixteen. 

The weed hadn’t helped, but it had made everything nice and floaty and fun even if his body felt too burdensome to move. 

Or maybe it’s difficult to move because Jisung feels like a weighted blanket on top of him. Heavy and warm and sucking on his neck.

“Don’t leave a mark,” Jeongin remembers, moving slightly away from Jisung. He reaches up to his neck and even though it doesn’t feel like anything yet, he swears he can feel a bruise forming. He frowns. “I said don’t leave a mark.”

“I didn’t.” Jisung looks like he’s lying, lips pouty and eyes wide, begging Jeongin to believe him.

Jisung reconnects his mouth to Jeongin’s skin, sucking and biting and kissing in a way that feels vaguely nice even if a bit slobbery. Which is maybe a bit gross but Jeongin is trying not to think about it too hard. It’s mostly nice anyway.

He’s not sure how long they’ve been like this. A Vince Staples song has been on loop—or maybe not on loop, maybe the playlist has gone back around and the song is playing again because Jeongin remembers thinking I love this song earlier. Or maybe it’s been only two minutes and the weed is fucking with him. It wouldn’t be the first time.

The last time he had smoked weed (with Jisung) he had gotten mad it took forever to walk back to his apartment. The air around him had felt thick and heavy, like he was wading through water and mud. Weed makes time get away from him, or sometimes, awfully, narrow too much. If he thinks about it too much he knows he’ll panic so instead he focuses back on Jisung on top of him. 

“Minho,” Jisung mumbles, teeth digging into Jeongin’s skin. He’s kind of trying to rut against Jeongin and Jeongin still has enough capabilities to rest his hands on Jisung’s waist and still him. Jisung lets out a whine, high in his throat. His dick bumps against Jeongin’s torso as he straightens up. 

“I’m Jeongin.” 

“No, is he looking this way?” Although Jisung looks semi-guilty, like he has forgotten it was Jeongin under him. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

Jeongin tilts his head slightly, giving Jisung access to his neck again and finding Minho not too far away. Jeongin can’t actually tell if he’s noticed them. He’s looking away, but his shoulders seem tense. Although everyone seems tense, standing too straight. Jeongin’s own spine feels soft and malleable. “I don’t think so.”

Jisung huffs, pulling up and away. His eyes are unfocused, just as drunk as Jeongin. Maybe more. “What’s the point of kissing you then?”

Jeongin shrugs, he’s not actually sure why or how Jisung came to be in his lap. He’d mostly allowed it because the weight of him feels sort of nice, otherwise he’s pretty sure Jeongin would be too out of his body. “You kissed me.”

The room is still kind of spinning as Jisung rearranges himself, still in Jeongin’s lap. “Okay, well when you say it like that it sounds like you’re not into it.” The song changes and maybe someone is just playing a Vince Staples album because the songs keep bleeding into each other. The beat is high strung and loud and Jeongin closes his eyes for a moment, trying to get the room to stabilize.

“It’s nice,” Jeongin says, it's a bit of a lie but Jisung grins. He grabs both of Jeongin’s cheeks, squeezing them together. Jeongin shoves his hands away.

“You like me.”

“I do not,” Jeongin looks around the room. 

Jisung slumps against him, he presses his fingers against Jeongin’s neck. Jeongin knows there’s a mark. “Don’t tell Seungmin it was me.”

“I’m not lying to him.” He’s also pretty sure Seungmin saw, he’s around here somewhere. Jeongin looks around the room again. There’s too many bodies.

“Dude what happened to bros before hoes?”

“He’s the love of my life, don’t call him that.”

“I knew you first,” Jisung whines, flopping off Jeongin and on to the couch.

“Okay, but I love him.”

“Hurtful,” Jisung sighs. It might be a bit concerning that the words come too easily, that Jisung doesn’t seem phased by Jeongin’s confession. Although to call it a confession is disingenuous. It’s not even an open secret, it’s just common knowledge. Jisung looks over at Minho and then at Jeongin. “Anyone ever told you you look like Minho?"

“You, all the time.”

“Do you think he likes me?”

Jeongin rolls his eyes and doesn’t bother responding. He looks around the room again. “Where is Seungmin?”

“Okay I guess we’re back on Seungmin.” Jisung grumbles. Jeongin ignores him. “Oh he’s right there.” Jisung vaguely says, pointing towards Seungmin but looking at Minho. “I’m gonna go talk to him.” He doesn’t make any move to get up though.

Jeongin follows Jisung’s pointing, finding Seungmin. He’s leaning against a wall talking to some blonde twink. He keeps touching his neck, gesturing something. The blonde twink seems animated, nodding along. Jeongin frowns, touches his own neck and the mark on his neck. He looks over at Jisung, about to tell him off again for the mark, but Jisung is staring down Minho like he can set him on fire with his thoughts so Jeongin doesn’t bother. Instead he gets up, his limbs feel big and unsteady but he rolls his neck, and starts heading towards Seungmin.

“Innie,” Chan grabs Jeongin around the waist before he’s even made it more than three feet away from the couch. “Innie, Innie, Innie.”

“Hyung,” Jeongin holds on to Chan's shoulders, he does feel steadier on his feet with Chan’s weight so he doesn’t let go. “Who is that?” He points with his chin towards Seungmin.

“Seungmin,” Chan furrows his eyebrows.

“And the twink?”

“Chenle?” Chan pauses. “I don’t think Chenle is a twink.”

“Why is he all over Seungmin?”

Chan looks again, blinking slowly as if he’s rediscovering the scene, looking at it from a different perspective. Chenle and Seungmin are practically the same height, and yet Jeongin can feel Chenle looking up at Seungmin through his eyelashes like Seungmin’s gonna fuck him. “He’s not?” Chan sounds unsure.

“You sound unsure.”

“They’re not even touching.” Chan says.

“He’s bothering him.”

“No, it really doesn’t look like he is.”

“I need to go fuck Seungmin.” Jeongin takes a step towards Seungmin and Chenle again.  

Chan grips him tighter, making a face that gives Jeongin pause. “Here?”

“Don’t think about Seungmin.”

“What?”

“You’re thinking of fucking Seungmin. That’s my boyfriend, hyung.” He’s not. If Jisung were here he would say just as much; instead Chan just looks slightly embarrassed on behalf of Jeongin. Jeongin feels embarrassed. “He’s my Seungmin.” That feels more realistic, no matter what Seungmin is his. “Don’t think about fucking him.”

“I’m not,” but Chan’s ears are bright red and his nose is scrunched and Jeongin knows he is.

“You are,” Jeongin accuses. “What the hell. First that blonde twink and now you?”

“You’re the one that said you had to go fuck Seungmin.”

“Okay, but he’s mine. Seungmin to you should be an outline of a person when you look at him. Like a shadow maybe. A big question mark.”

“Jeongin.”

“Don’t think about fucking him.”

“I’m not. I don’t want to.”

Jeongin frowns. “What do you mean you don’t want to?”

Chan’s nose scrunches again. “I think I’m confused.”

Seungmin’s hot and everyone should want to fuck him except they can’t because he’s Jeongin’s. Jeongin doesn't get what's hard to understand. “Don’t look at him.”

Jeongin frowns but Chan disentangles himself. “Let’s go talk to Minnie before you lose your head.”

Jeongin throws himself at Seungmin almost as soon as he can. Seungmin stumbles a bit and both Chan and Chenle reach out to balance him. Jeongin is quicker, pulling Seungmin up. They're pressed back to front, Jeongin hooking his chin on Seungmin's shoulder, arms around his waist. Chan rolls his eyes.

“Innie,” Seungmin looks back at Jeongin, petting his hair down. 

“Chenle,” Jeongin hears Chan say and Jeongin takes the opportunity to press his mouth against Seungmin’s neck. 

“Pay attention to me,” he murmurs, it's soft enough that he knows Seungmin didn’t hear over Vince Staples. And fuck. “Whose playlist is this?”

“You like it?” Chenle grins at him. Jeongin narrows his eyes, Chenle's ears are bright red, he's smiling too wide, his incisors sharp. Jeongin presses his cheek against Seungmin's face and neck, protecting the skin. He can imagine Chenle sinking his teeth into Seungmin in the way Seungmin sometimes begs for.

“No,” Jeongin says only to be contrarian. 

Chenle laughs. It’s loud, more of a cackle, and has Chan giggling. Seungmin frowns at Jeongin, putting slight distance between their bodies. He knows him too well. “I asked Changbin to play the album—”

Jeongin burns, glaring at Chan and Chenle as they dissolve into giggles and a conversation too fast for Jeongin to pay attention to. Seungmin pats Jeongin’s hair. “Did you have fun with Jisung?” Jeongin isn’t sure if it’s condescending. 

He’s aware they’re not alone, that Chan and Chenle can hear everything. He's aware that as much as he wants to take from Seungmin he can't; at least not here, not out in the open. He's aware that if he reached for Seungmin, tried to press his lips to skin, to Seungmin's neck, or jaw, or cheek, or worse, his lips, Seungmin would step away. Not here. He’s aware he also wasn’t alone with Jisung, that they weren’t hiding, but that was so much easier. Although he doesn't like knowing that Seungmin saw everything. Doesn't like that Seungmin would ask him about it, point to it, drag it out into the open.

Something ugly crawls into his throat at the mention. “Are you jealous?”

Chan must overhear because he wanders away, snaking a hand around Chenle and dragging him off with the promise of getting Changbin to change the playlist and finding Felix.

“Were you gonna fuck him?” Jeongin asks almost immediately.

A laugh bubbles out of Seungmin. “How much did you drink?”

“Not much.” Jeongin lies. “Tell me. Were you gonna fuck him?”

“Did you not like the music?” Seungmin asks instead.

“I did,” Jeongin corrects himself. "Tell me."

Seungmin frowns. “No. I don’t want to.” Seungmin pets his hair again and Jeongin melts, even if he can feel anger bubbling in his veins. “I think him and Felix have a thing sometimes.”

“Oh,” he looks over at Chan and Chenle who are talking to Felix. 

Felix is Seungmin’s best friend. Seungmin wouldn’t do that. 

“If he wasn’t? If they didn’t?” Jeongin asks.

“No,” Seungmin pets Jeongin's hair down, placating him.

It’s no good though because then Jeongin remembers that Felix and Seungmin had once upon a time hooked up every chance they got. Jeongin only knows because he’d push for all the details. Jeongin likes the feeling of pressing into the knife, forcing Seungmin to twist it.

“Let me fuck you.”

“You’re drunk.” He’s still petting Jeongin’s hair, smiling but his eyes look vacant. 

“Please.” Jeongin is not above begging, not used to being denied this. Despite everything Seungmin is kind to him, cares for him. But his care feels stilted, like a shadow of what it was once even though Jeongin can’t quite identify the change. He pretends it’s in his head, too scared to examine it closely. 

Seungmin trails his fingers through Jeongin’s hair, presses them against his scalp, then down his neck, pressing hard against the bruise Jisung left. Jeongin whines, mouth falling open. “Don’t kiss anyone else,” comes tumbling out, riddled with guilt.

“I wasn’t.” It’s not a promise. 

Jeongin burns. Seungmin presses again. “Jisung kissed me.” He knows he’s twisting the truth. Knows that Seungmin probably saw him stretch out his neck, allow more. It’s easier to put the blame on Jisung though.  Jisung should understand, Jeongin is already carrying too much blame.

Seungmin doesn’t seem bothered, he giggles like he can read right through Jeongin. “It’s okay, I know he has that jealousy thing with Minho.” He points towards where Jeongin assumes Minho or Jisung or both are. He doesn’t bother to turn around and check. He’s watching Seungmin carefully, waiting. 

Seungmin’s brown eyes, wide and open, look back at him, finally focused, intense. 

“Are you not jealous?” Jeongin feels small, like he’s an ant below Seungmin’s foot begging to be stomped on. 

“Should I be?” Seungmin’s fingers are on the bruise again, pressing down. “Jisung is careless.”

It’s soft, but the words feel harsh. It’s an admonition to Jeongin. He swallows thickly.

“You can be.” I want you to.

Seungmin considers; something Jeongin can’t quite read crossing over his features. “I’m not.”

It’s another knife. 

“Are you jealous?” 

“Always,” Jeongin is maybe embarrassing himself. Is thankful for the tequila and the weed and whatever the fuck was in the drinks from King’s Cup because otherwise he might start crying. Can only guess at the mortification he’ll feel tomorrow.

Seungmin presses against the bruise. 

“Can I fuck you?” Jeongin asks again. 

Maybe Seungmin can read that a rejection right now would shatter Jeongin, because he nods, wraps a hand around Jeongin’s wrist and tugs him through the party with purpose. The music is loud and pounding, a different beat from earlier, and Jeongin centers his thoughts on the point of contact with Seungmin before he loses himself and panics. 

Seungmin leads them to Chan’s room and Jeongin has enough wherewithal to feel bad about their plans but doesn’t care enough to not lock the door, to stop. 

The music filters through the door, and there’s a distinct buzzing in his body as he takes a shaky breath. Seungmin sits on the bed, he's still loosely holding on to Jeongin's wrist. “You should drink water.” It’s a throwaway comment, too late now in Jeongin’s mind. There’s no way he’s leaving to get water. Having Seungmin in front of him, with the knowledge that they’re about to have sex is enough to sober him up for a moment, forcing himself to focus through the alcohol and weed.

Jeongin pushes Seungmin back, crawls into his space and pushes his shirt up, running his fingers over Seungmin’s body. “Why were you flirting with Chenle?”

Months and months before they had started this, when Jeongin hadn’t yet considered sleeping with Seungmin, Seungmin had asked him the same thing. Had asked why Jeongin was flirting with Beomgyu at some other party, had pushed into his space with intent, with words that hadn’t made sense. Not in the way Jeongin knew Seungmin. Jeongin had laughed. Had gone home with Beomgyu. And again, and again. 

Seungmin had held on to that, had understood. But it had shifted something in Jeongin. Suddenly Seungmin seemed more real, and suddenly it wasn’t so laughable when Hyunjin teased Seungmin about looking hot or when someone hit on Seungmin like he was an option. Suddenly Seungmin felt like the only option.

So that when it was Jeongin crowding into Seungmin’s space, it had felt like a blast of cold air when Seungmin had smiled at him, had said sure, but without the fervor from last time. Had made it clear later, had apologized for making things weird before, had promised he was over it that he valued Jeongin’s friendship as if it hadn’t been Jeongin pushing him away. Had reassured Jeongin even as he spread himself open, turned around and presented himself to Jeongin, even as he’d fucked himself back, whining and moaning. And Jeongin wondered what it would have been like if he had responded differently before, if he had pressed against Seungmin and reciprocated. If he would have had Seungmin earlier, soft and warm. It had felt like too late when he had whispered I love you against Seungmin’s neck, raw and honest.

Jeongin had slept with Beomgyu the next day again. Like a bad habit he couldn’t kick. Had looped between Beomgyu and nameless others, jumping from bed to bed even as he felt like his chest was caving in. At the end though when the feeling of his insides being carved out became too much, he had crawled into Seungmin’s bed asking for forgiveness, over and over again.

He’s not sure he ever got it.

Even now, he has to pretend it’s forgiveness when Seungmin wraps his arms around him, pulling him up and pressing their lips together. “I wasn’t.” 

Jeongin doesn’t deepen the kiss, the knife too deep in his chest. Instead, he kisses the corner of Seungmin’s lips, down his jaw, down his throat. He sucks right below Seungmin’s ear, grazing the skin with his teeth. He wants to mark him up, until he’s red and purple, so that everyone knows, even if it’s only temporary.

Seungmin lets him, stretches out his neck and holds on to Jeongin like Jeongin might float away, his nails digging into Jeongin’s back. Jeongin kisses his neck, and bites, and licks, until Seungmin is grinding up against Jeongin, soft noises falling from his lips.

Jeongin moves back, allows himself to kiss Seungmin just once. It’s delicate, until it’s not, until Seungmin is pushing in, tasting every corner of Jeongin’s mouth. Jeongin pulls away, his skin feels like it’s burning as Seungmin blinks up at him, questioning. Jeongin pretends not to notice, makes himself busy by pulling Seungmin’s shirt off, and then he’s peppering Seungmin’s torso with open mouth kisses. It's safer territory.

He feels almost delirious when he says, “You’re so beautiful like this.” 

“Innie,” Seungmin pulls on his hair, but Jeongin keeps moving down, kissing down the planes of Seungmin's stomach, digging his fingers into Seungmin’s sides. His skin is soft, Jeongin wonders what would happen if he bit down hard.

“You’re mine,” Jeongin says. “Mine. Don’t kiss anyone else.”

Seungmin presses two fingers against Jeongin’s neck, gasping as Jeongin unbuttons Seungmin’s jeans, palming him over the denim before helping to peel them off his legs. The pressure on his neck is a reminder. A response to Jeongin's request.

Jeongin kisses Seungmin’s dick over his underwear, sucks at the head until the fabric is wet. Seungmin groans, pulling Jeongin off and shoving his underwear down just enough to take out his dick. Jeongin reconnects his lips to the head without much fanfare or teasing. 

Seungmin is smaller than him, but thick. So that when Jeongin sinks his mouth down, until his nose is pressed against skin he knows his jaw will ache tomorrow. He moans around Seungmin’s dick, thinking of everything he wishes he could say. Mostly, it sounds like a mantra. Iloveyou Iloveyou Iloveyou until the words melt together, and it doesn’t mean anything anymore.

He knows he’s good at this. Seungmin feels like an extension of his body. Jeongin knows just what Seungmin likes when he licks up the shaft, sucks on just the tip. He loses himself in the feeling, breathing through his nose as he takes Seungmin as far as he can, over and over, until Seungmin pulls him up by the hair. “I’m gonna come, if you keep–” he looks fucked out, eyes large in the semi-darkness. “Said you were gonna fuck me.”

Jeongin nods, trying to ground himself in the moment. He feels a little untethered, moving away from Seungmin’s body. He feels like he can breathe easier when there’s space between them. He searches Chan’s dresser, looking for lube. There is none.

“Lube, there’s no lube.” He opens another drawer, then another. Rustles through documents and chargers and pens looking for lube. He knows it’s an invasion of privacy, knows Chan will look at them with his kicked puppy expression of disappointment if (when) he finds out. But the potential repercussions isn’t enough to stop Jeongin. Not when he’s already breaking his own heart, what’s a few more hurt feelings.

“The dresser,” Seungmin murmurs, pushing himself up onto his elbows. 

Jeongin reaches for the dresser. Seungmin is right, the top drawer has lube. He tries to push down any jealous feelings, remembering Chan’s nose scrunch. When he turns back around, Seungmin is undressed, stroking himself slowly. “Lucky guess.” Seungmin offers him a tiny smile, as if reading Jeongin's thoughts.

Jeongin doesn’t hesitate. He feels like his chest might collapse if he doesn’t get inside of Seungmin immediately. Crawls in between his legs and traces his rim with one finger, pouring lube directly on to the skin. It drips on the bedspread, but it doesn’t matter. Not when Seungmin gasps and spreads his legs further apart, an invitation. Jeongin pushes a finger to the knuckle and then pushes another in without waiting. 

Seungmin holds on to his wrist, stopping his movement. “Slow, yeah.”

So Jeongin slows down, it’s an agonizing pace when he drips more lube on to his fingers, running the pads of his fingers against Seungmin’s walls, watching his fingers disappear and then appear, disappear and appear.

Once he feels Seungmin completely relax, melting into the sheets, he pushes another finger in. He’s not as careful, too impatient. Seungmin keeps writhing under him, his knees knocking against Jeongin’s sides as Jeongin fucks into him with his fingers.

It’s a gift when Seungmin signals he’s ready, pulling Jeongin closer. Jeongin has to pull away, just enough to hastily undress. His shirt gets tangled, so that Seungmin laughs, reaches up and helps him. The shirt lands somewhere near the door. 

When he pushes into Seungmin he thinks he might black out. Every single time feels better than the last. Like he’s returning home, like their bodies are meant to be. It’s difficult not to say everything he wants to say, to tell Seungmin how much he loves him, that it feels like he’s slowly dying because of how much he loves him. His mouth fills up with spit as he starts fucking Seungmin slowly, his words are garbled, unintelligible, as he says, “So pretty, you’re so pretty, Minnie. You’re mine. Need you, need you just like this, you feel so good, so tight, just for me.”

Seungmin’s eyes are screwed shut, his face twisted up as if in pain even as he begs, “More, more, please. You’re filling me up, feel so good.”

Jeongin feels a sweat drip down his temples, as he tries to keep his pace, fingers digging into Seungmin’s thighs. Seungmin’s skin is so soft, so unmarred, Jeongin wants to kiss him until it burns. 

Seungmin reaches up for him, his eyes opening as he draws Jeongin in. It changes the angle, with Seungmin gripping on to his back, draws Jeongin in deeper. He’s close enough so that he can kiss Seungmin, nothing more than open mouth pants and the pressing of lips against lips. His tongue darts out to taste Seungmin before he loses sight of what he’s doing and they’re just whining each other’s mouths. He feels too fucked out to do much else. 

Jeongin’s sweat is dripping onto Seungmin’s skin, and his cross necklace hits Seungmin’s chin every so often, and Seungmin looks perfect. His eyes keep fluttering close like it’s too difficult to keep them open. 

Jeongin feels close, buries his face into Seungmin’s neck. He’s so close, and he doesn’t feel drunk or high, he feels too aware of his body. Too aware of the feelings in his chest and the words he keeps swallowing down. Jeongin doesn’t really beg, but he would. He wants to.

Love me. Please. Love me.

“Innie, I’m so close,” Seungmin’s words are half cut off. Jeongin grunts into his neck. He doesn’t think he can speak, not without breaking whatever they have and his own heart in the process. It’s hard not to make the same mistakes. “Gonna come, please, make me come.”

Jeongin groans, bites softly before he pulls away from Seungmin’s neck and puts room between them. He holds on to Seungmin’s waist and picks up his speed, fucking into him relentlessly until Seungmin’s eyes are rolling back and he’s coming.

It’s all Jeongin needs. He comes with Seungmin’s name on his lips, like a prayer. He falls forward, fucking into Seungmin through his own orgasm. When he comes down, Seungmin is petting his hair, nails scratching his scalp. 

Jeongin’s eyes are watery as he pulls away, their skin sweaty and covered in come. He pulls out of Seungmin slowly. He already misses being inside of him, watches as his come drips out of Seungmin. He considers pushing it back in, had done so the first time they’d fucked without a condom but Seungmin had twisted away and so he doesn’t. Instead he falls against Seungmin again.

Seungmin watches him quietly. The music is still loud outside. Seungmin brushes a stray tear away from Jeongin’s cheek but he’s too good to mention the watery eyes.

Jeongin feels something close to guilt eat at him. His voice is hoarse when he asks, “Good?”

Seungmin nods, gives him a soft smile. “You’re always good. You make me feel so good.”

Jeongin nods shakily, somewhere in the back of his mind he’s aware that he can already feel the shadows of an incoming hangover, a slight pain behind his eyes; he’s aware that they’re still in Chan’s bed, that the sheets are covered in come and lube, that there’s a party going downstairs, that they can’t sleep here. But none of it matters, he presses tightly against Seungmin’s side and waits for sleep wash over him.